Are You Sure This Will Help Our Boys?
by Cpt. Carraghay
Summary: Marcus Wright, a half-human Terminator, is sent back on a mysterious mission time to the summer of 1922. With his dashing good looks and a desire for the truth, he finds himself caught up in the middle of a West-Egg-style-love-octagon! Marcus/Everyone :p


Marcus Wright awoke to find himself in a pile of ashes on the side of a road. It was a steaming summer day in the year 1922, and the sweat was glistening on his bare, chiseled muscles. By this point he was used to waking up in unfamiliar places and unfamiliar times, completely naked. He could remember only one thing, and that was the name '_Repairs: George B. Wilson, Cars Bought and Sold_." But first, he walked into the fancy-looking restaurant he saw.

When he walked in the door, the entire party stopped- the jazz orchestra suddenly dropped their instruments and stared in awe at Marcus's monstrous length. Wanting to avoid this awkward situation, Marcus stopped the first man he saw walking down the stairs into the main dining room.

"Gimme your suit, unless you wanna get hurt," he threatened in his gruff, husky tone.

"Are you sure this will help our boys?" The man quickly consented after one look into Marcus's deep and piercing eyes, and stripped right on the spot. "Glad I could help- you're very lucky, lieutenant."

Marcus hurried to the bathroom in order to suit up. He shut himself into the stall, but was quickly interrupted by another man's voice from the neighboring one.

"Tom? Tom Buchanan?" said the other man. "It's me, Nick. I know it's you. No one else would be in this area at this time, and this naked too." But Marcus had little patience for such silliness and continued to dress. He stepped out of the bathroom stall, the dandy man's slender suit barely hiding the contours of his rippling muscles. He hadn't been out for a second when Nick grabbed him by the shoulders.

"I know why you're here. You're going to cheat on Daisy again. That's the only reason why you come down to this dump of a city anyhow. Well, I won't stand for it, Tom. Daisy's my cousin and-"

"_Shut up._ Or do you wanna get punched, pretty boy?" Marcus quickly shoved the annoying man up against the wall of the bathroom, finding it to be no challenge at all to overcome him. "Listen, punk. I'm not this 'Tom,' whoever he is. The name's Marcus Wright. Now, do you know where I can find a man named Wilson's garage?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir!" Nick was blushing and everything- probably from embarrassment. "I thought you were someone I know. Is there… any way I can make it up to you, for causing you this much trouble?" Without even waiting for a reply, Nick began to move his hands slowly down Marcus's rock-hard abs, towards his pants and finally unbuckling his belt.

Marcus didn't object to this seemingly random show of affection. Feeling that he had permission now, Nick took Marcus's length in his hands and began to stroke it furiously. Marcus released Nick from his grip and reached his arms around his body, grabbing him firmly by the ass while their lips began to touch and Nick continued to work with his hands. He wondered why Nick was so willing to 'make it up to him,' and especially in this way. But he really didn't care, as he was feeling too much pleasure to even consider asking him to stop. Just then the dandy man walked in completely naked.

Totally embarrassed and so close to a climax, Marcus quickly ran back into the bathroom stall and finished himself off. Then he remembered that he was a Terminator and couldn't even cum. Oh well, he though- at least it felt good.

"Wilson's garage," Nick said shyly, "is just a block down the road." He slipped Marcus a card with his phone number written on it before he stormed out of the bathroom, leaving Nick and the dandy man to their business.

Marcus had no idea who this 'Tom' fellow was, but he clearly knew the Wilsons and looked strikingly similar to himself, according to Nick. So he decided that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to pretend to be him, at least until he knew why he was after Wilson. He found the entrance to the old, run-down garage and stepped inside. The owner was a pale, lifeless blonde man in overalls. He was struggling with a gas pump in the corner of his shop. Marcus approached him from behind while he was completely oblivious to his presence. He reached around Wilson's slight figure and grabbed the pump in order to assist him.

"Whoa my God!" Wilson shrieked and sent gas shooting everywhere. Marcus quieted him down by pushing his pelvis into Wilson's back-side, urging him to continue his work. Wilson must have recognized his dominating touch, for he whispered "Tom" in the cutest little voice. He shut off the gas pump and turned around to face Marcus, but then quickly detached from him when he saw his voluptuous wife coming down the stairs.

"Get some chairs, George," she commanded. He nervously hurried out of the room, and the woman rushed into Marcus's thick arms. "Let's get out of here," she whispered. "I wanna go back to your place." Just then her husband returned, dragging one kid-sized chair in with him- as it was probably all he could carry. Marcus wanted to complete his mission, whatever it was- but the fat lady insisted. "Tom and I are just going to step outside for a few hours. Have fun!" She grabbed him by the bulging bicep and led him outside.

"Where's your coupé, Tom?" Obviously Marcus had no coupé, so he had to improvise. "Daisy has it today-" he remembered that being his wife's name. "Daisy? Daisy, Daisy Daisy?" Myrtle repeated on and on, "I'll say her name whenever I want! Daisy Dai-"

For some reason, Marcus just felt compelled to slap her. Forgetting that he had Terminator hands, he broke her nose three times with one slap and knocked her unconscious, leaving her in a puddle of her own blood. Wilson must've heard, as he rushed out of the shop screaming "Oh my Ga-od, oh my Ga-od, oh my Ga-od!" Marcus had to shut him up in order to avoid detection, and he remembered what had worked on the wimp last time. He lifted Myrtle's unconscious body in one arm and clothes-lined Wilson with the other, then carried them both back into the shop.

He dropped Wilson on his back onto his desk and held him down by the wrists. He wouldn't stop screaming, but he knew it wouldn't have been right to leave the both of them knocked out in their shop. So instead he locked the office door and dropped his pants. Wilson was curled up on his desk, completely vulnerable. Marcus approached him, unfastened his overalls and stuck himself inside. He had no idea what he was doing, and he could only hope that it would somehow result in the completion of his mission. Be began to thrust deeply into Wilson, grunting deeply as he did. "Oooooh my GOD!" Wislon was practically crying in pain. "T-Tom! You've… gotten stronger since last time…" He realized that he probably would be stronger than this Tom Buchanan- after all, he was made of metal. In order to avoid blowing his cover he began to move more slowly inside of Wilson, and more tenderly. Wilson squeaked and made all sorts of other girlish noises while Marcus fucked him on his desk. He released one last cry of ecstasy and came all over Marcus's new suit.

"Now, whatever you were planning- or going to plan, or whatever… just don't do it, Wilson. Stay with your wife- she needs you." Marcus left his soiled new jacket on Wilson's desk, pulled up his pants and walked out the door, leaving George Wilson writhing in pleasure on his desk.

He figured he had to find this Tom Buchanan if he was going to understand the situation at all, so he decided to give Nick a call. He found a phone-booth and stole some quarters from a young Jewish kid on the street and dialed Nick's number- luckily he was in his office. "To- I mean, Marcus! It's… good to hear from you." Marcus once again had little time for this- "I need to find the real Tom. Can you get me to him?" "Sure- I'll meet you at the train station, and we'll head on up to East Egg together."

Marcus saw Nick through the crowd at the station- his girlish long hair and his girlish and vulnerable-looking face. They met up and boarded a train together; the train was packed, so they had to sit close together. It was slightly uncomfortable for Marcus, being so close to such a clearly homosexual man in public. But it was his only option. "So," Nick began, "why do you need to find Tom? And how about Wilson?"

"I don't know. It's just-" he didn't want to reveal his identity as a Terminator, so he tried to recall his knowledge of the Roaring 20's from his high school days; before the death of his brother, before everything went to shit… "he's a business buddy of mine, and he recommended I go to Wilson to get my car fixed." "What business is Tom in? I thought he only played polo?" "Yeah… Tom's a… a polo buddy. Now shut up and keep rubbing my crotch."

The train ride passed quickly and they arrived in East Egg. From there they took a taxi to a glittering, ivy-colored house near some stables. "This is the Buchanan's house- his wife's Daisy, and his daughter's name is Pammy. Now just play it cool." Nick opened the door and they stepped inside.

The living room was white and hot, and there were two women lying on the enormous couch. The one he assumed was Daisy squealed "TAaaaaaooohohohoaoaoaohm!" but didn't get up to see him or anything. The other lady stood up and took Nick in her lap on the couch. "Jordan, Tom's home from the city! Isn't that exciting and romantic? Now he can make us a cold drink!" Marcus looked at Nick as if to ask him what to do, but his face red with blush- most likely due to the placement of Jordan's fingers underneath him. Daisy's voice was lovely and captivating- almost like money- but there was something absolutely annoying about her. "So, Tom, are you going to make us a drink or what?"

Marcus really didn't know what slutty girls from the 1920s drank, so he just fetched some gin and a few glasses from the kitchen. He didn't see why she didn't just ask a butler to do this- she must've been too lazy even for that. When he came back in the room there was another man standing by the couch- one who looked just like him.

"TAAAAAOHM! I thought I told you to get us a drink!" Daisy was yelling at the real Tom, but stopped just as Marcus walked in with the tray of drinks. "Tom? Tom, why is there another Tom? I don't understand! It's so hot! Everything's so confused! Let's go to tow-"

Tom interrupted her in his gruff, husky tenor. "Daisy, SHUT UP! Obviously this man isn't me. There are things between us that he'll never know- things that he could never understand. Remember- at Kapiolani? Or that time when I carried you down from the Punch Bowl to keep your shoes dry?... Daisy?" Just then a nurse led a small blonde girl into the room by the hand.

"The Bles-sed Pre-cious! Come to your own mother that loves you! Aren't mommy's friends pretty?" Pammy started to cry "Where's daddy?" She must've been confused by the two seemingly identical men. The nurse took Pammy back to her room, and Daisy called after her: "You dream on, you absolute little dream!" She stared sternly at the two men. "Really, though. What is going on?"

Tom was furious, so he shook Marcus from his shoulders- "I hope you- Mr. Nobody from Nowehere- haven't been making love to my wife! Because I WILL crush you." Marcus, being the stronger of the two, grabbed Tom's arm and arm-barred him right there. "Tom, if you're going to make personal attacks then I won't stay here another minute! Oh let's go home!" Daisy was confused but clearly aroused by the sight of two brawny men brawling in her living room. Nick was still being anally penetrated by Jordan's strong fingers, Marcus could tell. From underneath him, Tom muttered one word: "Stables." Their fight was interrupted by Nick's slight moans of pleasure.

Dinner was tense- Daisy insisted that Marcus should stay for dinner, after the confusion earlier. He didn't want to tell them his real name, just in case he would have to kill them later- so instead he picked the first name that came to his head. "The name's G. Glackston." Daisy looked around frantically. "Glackston? What Glackston?" Nick was sitting in between Marcus and Tom at the dinner table, and trying to ease the tension in the air by rubbing his hands up and down their legs. Daisy calmed down and began to blabber on: "It's almost the longest day of the year. Do you always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it. We should plan something! What do people plan?" Marcus was getting aggravated, but this was no place for a scene- he would meet Tom in his stables later that night anyhow. So he just played with his food and waited for dinner to end.

It did, and suddenly he was being dragged down the road by Tom's forceful hands. "I don't know what you're up to, Mr. Glackston," said Tom, "but I think it's pretty damned weird that there are two attractive, buff, Nordic men running around this part of the country. It's almost as much of a coincidence as Blocks Biloxi." They reached the stables and Tom led Marcus inside, shutting the doors. He then quickly stripped himself down. "It's too damned weird that we haven't fucked yet, that's all."

Marcus's sexual encounters so far that day had only been too easy; this one, he had no idea how to deal with. He also removed all of his clothing and was soon after pinned down onto a pile of hay by Tom's rippling muscles. They locked lips and rolled around just like that, the sweat shining on their hard bodies as they felt each other up. The two were almost evenly matched in terms of strength and sexual dominance, so Marcus could think of only one way to do this. Perhaps those in the 1920s hadn't yet discovered the 'sixty-nine,' he thought. Moving quickly he turned himself around on Tom so that his cock was in Tom's face and vice versa. Tom was much larger than he was, that was for sure- he took the massive erection in his mouth and began to bob his head. Tom did the same to him, though with much less skill- must've been those years spent in prison that taught him how to work with his mouth, Marcus thought. The stables were hot and dusty, but the two men were feeling so much pleasure that it hardly could have mattered then. They continued like this until Tom exploded in Marcus's mouth, then they both collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily.

Tom was exasperated; "where'd you learn that one- the army?" "Yeah… something like that." Marcus rolled over and put his arm around Tom's broad chest. "Fuck this, Glackston. Cuddling is gay. But, I do want to know a little more about you before I return to my… wife." Marcus moved his hand across Tom's chiseled body; "Well, I was in the army. Uh… Third Division, Seventh Infantry. Yeah. When I came back, I didn't know anyone except… my second cousin once removed, George Wilson. I met Nick at Wilson's place, and he took me back here."

"Wilson…" Tom put his hands behind his head and let Marcus admire his body. "You know, I'm sleeping with Wilson's wife. He doesn't know- I have my ways of keeping him in the dark. You see, he's all part of my… plan." Marcus was curious- maybe this 'plan' had something to do with why he was sent back to 1922. "You see, there's this man Gatsby. He throws big parties down in West Egg- you must've heard of Gatsby's parties. Anyhow, he's fucking Nick without my permission, and he's totally stalking my wife. I'm trying to get rid of him. Wilson's all part of the plan." Marcus still didn't know what exactly he had to do. But either way, he had to see Gatsby.

He figured Nick would know him- it turned out they were neighbors. After that evening in the stables, Marcus went back to Nick's house and fell asleep on his couch. He was surprised that he woke up alone the next morning. Anyhow, he was going that afternoon to lunch at Gatsby's- going as Nick's date. They walked together across the great lawn to Gatsby's enormous, gigantic, throbbing mansion.

"Afternoon, old sport!" Gatsby's tanned skin was stretched attractively tight across his face, and his short hair looked as if it was trimmed every day. He was wearing a fruity pink suit- Marcus hadn't seen many of those in the 21st century. "I see you've brought a date, old sport! Nice to meet you, Mr. Glackston, old sport! Nice to meet you!" They followed him onto the porch, where twenty butlers had arranged a lunch for the three of them, complete with orange juice from one of those machines that could juice 200 oranges if a button was pressed by a butler's thumb 200 times.

They sat down, but nobody spoke. Gatsby just smiled and glared between the two men. Suddenly he jumped up from his seat and said angrily, "I wanna tell you somethin', old sport." It took Marcus a second to realize he was talking to him. "Look here, old sport. Nick and I have met before. Three months ago- in September. Anyway, Nick doesn't love you. He's never loved you. He loves me. The only reason he's dating you is because I'm too rich and he's tired of waiting for me to get over Daisy!" After he had said this mouthful Nick started to blush even more. Marcus stood up in order to challenge Mr. Gatsby- he had to avoid suspicion, after all. "Nick would never leave me. Certainly not for the richest man in the world, who'd have to get him the most expensive ring that money could buy." Gatsby was clearly stumped here.

Suddenly, Nick chimed in. "Oh, you never asked, Jay! I love you now, isn't that enough? I did love him… and Tom… and Jordan… and Mr. Mckee… and Dandy Man… But I love you more." Gatsby blinked. "You love me _more?"_ He gazed into Marcus's irresistible eyes, and perhaps out of anger or lust, he kissed him right there. Marcus was confused, but also very attracted. "I want the two of you. In my bedroom. Right now, old sport." Nick and Marcus exchanged nervous looks, and then hurriedly followed Gatsby up to his room.

"It's not the nicest room, but it's comfortable enough. Here are some clippings- about Daisy. I have a man in London who buys me clothes for every season- spring- fall." Gatsby rushed out of his pink suit as Nick and Marcus just stood there confused. Mr. Gatsby once again embraced Marcus and kissed him right on the lips. Nick looked jealous. "You know, old sport, it's the funniest thing. I can't… I just can't…" Gatsby and Marcus continued to make out, while Nick took off his clothing and devised a plan. He wasn't going to be so passive this time. He interrupted the two men and wedged himself between them, his back facing Gatsby. He rubbed his bare ass against Gatsby's monstrous length. Marcus removed the remains of his clothing and sat down on Gatsby's bed. Nick demanded: "I want you both… to fuck me."

So Gatsby pushed Nick down onto his bed, his face dangerously close to Marcus's cock. Gatsby took Nick from behind, holding him close while Marcus took him in the mouth. Gatsby was thrusting hard, and staring intently into Marcus's eyes as he did so- almost as if they were competing for Nick's love, and his hot body. Marcus began to thrust lightly into Nick's mouth, holding his head down as he did so. The two men made love simultaneously to Nick for a good while; it was only as soon as Gatsby began to mutter, "Nick, old sport" as he moved that Nick came hard and collapsed on the bed in absolute pleasure. Gatsby did too soon after. The three men just lay there on Gatsby's bed, panting and staring at each other lovingly. Yet it was clear that Marcus didn't belong. He got up slowly so he wouldn't disturb Nick and Gatsby, who had begun to caress and kiss each other as men in love do.

Marcus knew now why Tom hated Gatsby so much. So most likely, he would hire Wilson to kill him, or something like that. Wilson, a poor man with little to lose… the Buchanan's were carless people, weren't they? They just smashed up people and creatures and then retreated into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together. Marcus noticed Gatsby's pool, and decided to take a dip. He hadn't showered once, and he'd worked up a real sweat in the past two days. He stripped down once again and dove in the pool.

He hadn't been swimming for more than ten minutes when he noticed a strange figure approaching the pool. It was George Wilson; he looked tired, as if he had walked the whole way there. Marcus called his name, but Wilson wouldn't listen- he just took out a pistol and shot Marcus right in the chest.

"You little shit!" Yes, Marcus was bleeding- but it's not like Wilson, or any human, had the power to actually kill him. He quickly got out of the pool and rushed up to Wilson, who continued to unload his wimpy bullets into Marcus's metal frame. "What are yooooou?"

"_I am Marcus Wright, and I have no fucking idea what I am! AAAUUAAUAUGHGH!"_ He punched Wilson in the face and knocked him down onto the ground, disarming him and taking his gun. "If you're going to point that gun at somebody," he snarled, "you'd better be willing to pull the trigger." "But I just did, like ten times! It's all out of bullets now! Oh, my Ga-od!" Marcus removed Wilson's overalls once again, yet this time he forced the pistol inside of him instead of his dick. Wilson yelped and cried as Marcus moved the gun back and forth. Gatsby and Nick emerged from the giant house, totally confused as to what was going on.

"Just stop! Please, stop, and I'll tell you! Oh my GA-OD!" Marcus felt bad now, and stopped what he was doing. "I thought you were Tom. So I thought you were sleeping with my wife. Well, she's dead now- that bastard didn't even stop his car! No… no, I saw it! It was Daisy who was driving! That whore I slept with three years ago! And she wonders why her baby looks nothing like Tom! Aaaauahauhauau… so it was a set up! I came here to kill you, and then kill myself. I have nothing to live for, Marcus. I don't deserve to live…"

Marcus just started at him for a good moment. The poor man was sick, and crying and so so cute. They did this to him, he thought. Wilson deserved a better, more faithful wife than Myrtle- and a better friend than Tom. He stood up and held out his hand to Wilson.

"You're wrong, George. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Wilson's eyes lit up as he took Marcus's hand. He practically flew up into the man's arms, and the two embraced and kissed and everything. Nick and Gatsby, who were watching, did the same. Everyone deserves a second chance… except for Daisy.

So Marcus still had no idea why he was sent back to the summer of 1922. But he knew he didn't care. Because he found something better than a mission. He found love, which brings meaning to life like no mission ever can. Our missions and goals eluded us then, but that's no matter. To-morrow, we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. And one fine morning-

So we beat on, Terminators against the current, sent back ceaselessly into the past.


End file.
